


How It Should Have Been

by TheApothecary



Series: How It Should Have Been [1]
Category: Elder Scrolls IV: Oblivion
Genre: Dark Brotherhood Questline, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-12
Updated: 2019-04-16
Packaged: 2019-07-11 08:11:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,228
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15968279
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheApothecary/pseuds/TheApothecary
Summary: Azarien is a Dunmer who has been working more or less as a mercenary for hire since he left Morrowind as a youthful teenager. He’s been looking for a place he felt could be home for him for many years and Cyrodiil is the newest location for him to set his sights. After months of wandering around the Imperial homeland, he makes one choice that leads to him getting the family he never thought he could have. But when things go to hell in a handbasket, what lengths will one person go to to get back their family?





	1. Welcome Home

**Author's Note:**

> A.K.A. the story of how I got bitter at the Dark Brotherhood storyline in Oblivion, became emotionally attached to characters I probably wasn’t meant to and told Bethesda to shove it as I make my own canon.  
> I love you, Bethesda, but you ruin the things I love and now I have to fix it all.
> 
> I will add more tags as the story progresses. There is no romance in this for right now and I don't yet know if I intend to add any.
> 
> Yes, the indents are spaces. I haven't had an issue with the formatting of it, but if there is a layout/skin/whatever that is making it hard to read with the spaces/indents then let me know so I can remove them. I like indents and I'm new to AO3, so I have no idea if they exist in the available formatting options for HTML. I'm working with what I've got.

He had never considered himself to be much of a killer, or perhaps the right word was murderer. He had, of course, killed people, but were they ever considered to be murdered? It was always out of self-defense. Anyone walking along the roads of Cyrodiil has the possibility to be attacked by bandits or thugs of any kind. Killing them is merely a matter of self-defense. If they stopped to discuss thing then maybe there would be less blood covered dirt. Azarien doubted that would ever happen. Maybe he really was a murderer. Aside from the odd jobs he picked up that somehow included killing some bad people, he had also killed perfectly innocent ones. Three, in fact.

The Dunmer didn’t have what many would call a good moral compass. His background hadn’t provided him with much of one, but he did go out of his way to do his best to be a decent person. He helped people, but for a price. He had no real job other than whatever odd jobs he could get his hands on. It got to the point where he figured that joining up with the Mages Guild, the Fighters Guild, or tracking down the Thieves Guild would provide him with some stable form of existence. Azarian hadn’t had a real family growing up and it seemed to be the one thing he was missing. Sure, money could lead to a form of happiness, but it was never a constant kind of happiness. It had started to feel he was chasing after something he couldn’t find and would end up settling for whatever he could get. A visit to Skingrad changed that.

A nice, quiet, and altogether too safe little city, Skingrad is perhaps the last place one would expect crime to be committed. Or maybe the first place. It all depends on how you choose to hide or not hide the crime. It was not the place Azarien expected for a stranger to flag him down. First, it was whispered sounds to get his attention followed by being, well, followed. It made his skin crawl what it became evident that he wouldn’t escape the strange Bosmer. Finally, the male caught up to him around sundown on a deserted street.

_We can't talk here. Too public. Meet me behind the Great Chapel at midnight. Don't let anyone follow you. I'll make it worth your while.”_

It sounded far more likely someone would ambush him there rather than ask him for help. Regardless, Azarien went. The elf wanted him to look into three different people on three separate days. He claimed they were following him and watching him; he was in danger. Azarien learned otherwise as he stalked the first target. He got bored after half the day had gone by and decided to look through the person’s house. Nothing was found that would say that the person was after the man who had hired him. But money talked, and this man was offering Azarien a lot of money to kill each person. The Bosmer, Glarthir, was very paranoid and very gullible. He wanted to hear that the people he thought were watching him really were as bad as he thought they were. Azarien obliged. For each person he said was spying on Glarthir, he was given 200 gold. When all three were killed, he was paid 1000 gold.

That night, he slept at the West Weald Inn. He awoke an hour later when an uneasy feeling set in. He didn’t open his eyes to an empty room, rather a man looming over him in black robes. Azarien shot up with his hand ready to pull the dagger from under his pillow until the man spoke.

“You sleep rather soundly for a murderer.”

“And you’re rather talkative for a thief.” The man laughed in response to Azarien’s quick response. He had to rub his eyes just to be sure he wasn’t dreaming.

“I am no thief.” The man smiled at Azarien in a way that made his skin crawl. “I am the Speaker for the Dark Brotherhood. My name is Lucien Lachance, and my voice is the will of the Night Mother. She’s been watching you. Observing as you kill, admiring as you end life without pity or remorse. The Night Mother is most pleased… That is why I stand here before you. I bear an offering. An opportunity… to join our rather unique family…”

Azarien wasn’t sure what to say. He remained silent as his mind continued to try to process what was happening. He had been watched by some entity known as the Night Mother, who told this stranger that she liked the way Azarien killed people and sent her Speaker to extend an offer to join the Dark Brotherhood. It was bizarre.

“I can see that this comes as quite a shock to you. Allow me to do the talking then. On the Green Road to the north of Bravil lies the Inn of Ill Omen. There you will find a man named Rufio. Kill him, and your initiation into the Dark Brotherhood will be complete. Do this, and the next time you sleep in a location I deem secure, I will reveal myself once more, bearing the love of your new family.”

Once again, Azarien found his words failing him. He wasn’t sure what to make of the offer. Should he have felt honored? Of course, he knew of the Dark Brotherhood and what they did, but never could he have imagined being offered to join them. But there were questions he needed to ask and he wasn’t sure if he had the answers to any of them. Should he join the Dark Brotherhood? Could he refuse the offer and keep his life? Did he want to kill people for the rest of his life? What if he found that this was something he couldn’t do for the rest of his life after joining? What if he got bored? Bored of the people, bored of killing people, bored of Cyrodiil, or bored of the Dark Brotherhood. Was he really a killer?

“I’m not a murderer.” Azarien didn’t believe the words that left his mouth and it didn’t appear that Lucien did either. He couldn’t convince himself that he wasn’t a killer as he started to count all the people he had killed. There were those that left him no choice and ones he could have avoided altogether if he just ran. But each one met the same fate.

“No? The Night Mother seems to think otherwise. Allow me to grant you a gift, in case you reconsider. It is a virgin blade, and thirsts for blood.” Lucien spoke with amusement in his otherwise deep voice as he pulled a dagger from his cloak and handed it to Azarien, who took the blade tentatively. “Now, I bid you farewell. I do hope we’ll meet again soon.”

“Wait.” Azarien turned his gaze from the blade he had admired while the strange man spoke to the cloaked figure that stopped moving at his blurted request. “I, um, I have… questions.”

“All right.” The Speaker still sounded amused as he turned once again to face the Dunmer. His arms still remained at his sides, but the air he gave off made it seem like they were crossed over his chest as he waited.

Azarien asked about the Dark Brotherhood. Lucien didn’t offer much besides what most people rumored them to be. He gave little information on the Night Mother and his role as the speaker, but Azarien reminded himself that he needed to be kept at arm's length because he wasn’t a member and such information was important to an organization of assassins. The last thing he asked about was the target, Rufio. Lucien was able to give him information he could work with if he decided to really kill this person.

Lucien left silently after their conversation was finished. The Dunmer locked the door behind the assassin and returned to sit on the bed. He looked over the dagger in his hands. Lucien had mentioned it was called the Blade of Woe. It wasn’t hard to understand why. The dagger was gorgeous and freshly sharpened. That night, Azarien didn’t get much sleep.

The sun wasn’t up when he left Skingrad. He made his way south towards Bravil. He walked the entire way to the inn. By the time he got there, the sun that should have shown brightly in the morning sky was blocked out by rain clouds that let loose heavy water droplets. When he entered the inn, his leather armor was soaked and his long hair stuck to his neck and face. He looked around and took note of the hatch by the entrance before he walked towards the counter. He paid for a room and asked the owner about the name of the inn before he left to his room. He cleaned up then went back downstairs to eat. It took time to look over the owner and the woman at the inn. Once they seemed engrossed in their conversation, he quietly moved to the hatch. He climbed down the ladder into a hallway with two doors. He snuck to the first door and picked the lock. The room was dark and covered in cobwebs.

The second door opened with ease and was lit by a single handle. In the bed was an old man, fast asleep. He looked around to check that this was indeed the man named Rufio before he moved to the side of the bed. Azarien pulled the dagger from his side and moved it in his hand until he had a comfortable grip. Without hesitation, he reached out his free hand to move Rufio’s shoulder back while he plunged the dagger into his heart. As he drove the dagger through the man’s chest, Azarien felt the resistance of the bone that was over the man’s heart that met the dagger with what could only be described as feeling like a dull thud. The man grunted at the impact and his eyes opened wide to stare up at the Dunmer. He wondered if Rufio had been able to see him before he died.

He pulled the dagger from the corpse and used a clean shirt in the dresser nearby to clean the blade. He quickly made his way out of the hatch and out the door before anyone would notice him. He nearly sprinted towards Bravil. Once he was inside the city, he spent the day looking through the shops and avoiding the rain. When night came, he went to Silverhome on the Water and got a room. Azarien didn’t lock the door to the room after he blew out the candle. He sat on the bed and waited. Only a few hours passed before the door handle jiggled and opened. As the door closed, Azarien lit the handle on the bedside table with a small flame from his finger. The robed figure stopped and looked towards the source of light.

“You were waiting.” A hint of a smile could be caught under the hood Lucien wore as he spoke.

“I don’t enjoy being woken up in the middle of the night by a strangers wearing all black.” Azarien retorted and earned a chuckle from Lucien.

“So, the deed is done. How do I know this? You will find that the Dark Brotherhood knows a great many things. For you are now part of the family. Now you embrace your fate. For the slaying of Rufio was the signing of a covenant. The manner of execution, your signature. Rufio’s blood, the ink.” Azarien rose his eyebrows at Lucien’s words.

“Is everyone so morbid in the Dark Brotherhood or is it all just for fun?” He expected to be reprimanded in some way, but instead, the Speaker only chuckled again.

“It’s a role we all take on in our own ways. For some, it represents who they are and for others, it is an act they put on for enjoyment especially while they kill their target.”

“And where do you fall?” Azarien shifted to the edge of the bed, his head slightly tilted as he waited for a response. There were only a few seconds of silence as the Speaker looked at the lit candle.

“I won’t say, but know that at some point it becomes hard to find the line between them.” Lucien looked back at Azarien as he spoke, a smirk on his lips somewhere between murderous and scheming. “As the Speaker of the Black Hand, I directly oversee a particular group of family members. You will join that group and fulfill any contract given. You must now go to the city of Cheydinhal, to the abandoned house near the eastern wall. Enter the basement, and attempt to open the black door. You will be asked a question. Answer thusly: “Sanguine, my Brother.” You will gain entrance to the Sanctuary. Once inside, speak with Ocheeva.”

Azarien almost reached for his pack on the floor to retrieve his journal to write down the information, but he stopped himself as he went to lean forward. This was information he needed to commit to memory. He may not have known anyone aside from Lucien Lachance as a member of this organization, but he couldn’t put anyone at risk by writing down important information in a journal that could easily be stolen or lost. When he looked back to Lucien, the man gave an approving nod.

“We must now take our leave of each other, you and I, for there is much work to be done. I’ll be following… your progress. Welcome to the family.” Again Lucien went to turn to the door and again he was stopped.

“So soon? I was just getting used to you encroaching on my sleep.” Azarien smiled as the man looked back at him. There was a small hint of amusement in the man’s dark eyes. “I do have questions if you will indulge me.” Lucien turned to face the Dunmer once again. He asked of the covenant, Sithis,  and the Black Hand. Azarien’s favorite explanation of the night came when he asked of the Five Tenets. After Lucien listed the first two, it was easy to catch on to how each one ended. For the third, fourth, and fifth tenents, Azarian spoke the last line of each tenent with Lucien.

_"T o do so is to invoke the Wrath of Sithis.” _

He swore he nearly invoked the Wrath of Lucien Lachance as he mocked the repetition of the tenants. The Imperial let it go. As long as Azarien was able to commit the Five Tenents to memory, he could put up with the sass the Dunmer gave him.

“Are you finished?” The words were biting as they referenced both a rude mockery and the asking of questions. When Azarien nodded, Lucien smiled. “Good. You are now one with the Dark Brotherhood. Visit Ocheeva at the Cheydinhal Sanctuary and your new life will begin.” With his parting words, Lucien casted a chameleon spell with the twitch of a finger and disappeared into the darkness of the hallway.

It took two days for Azarien to arrive at Cheydinhal. He repeated the information in his head that Lucien had told him until he swore he could talk recite it in his sleep. When he arrived in the city it was dark. The street was lit by the fires of street lamps and torches of the occasional patrolling guard. He didn’t shy away from the light as he walked the streets. He took the time to admire the city as he walked over the small bridges and passed the houses. When he spotted a rundown looking house, he made sure no one was around as he approached the front door. The house looked quite nice despite the boarded windows and door. The stone fence at the front of the house was worn down and the metal gate laid in the grass instead of set on its hinges.

When he stood in front of the door, Azarien noticed that the board of wood weren’t over the door. The boards were nailed to the door instead of to the frame of the door to prevent people from entering. He had to pick the lock in order to enter the house. The inside of the house was a mess. Broken crates and barrels sat amidst layers of dust and cobwebs. Any furniture in the house was either toppled over, broken, or rotting from neglect. The basement door was not locked, much to Azarien’s relief. Unlock the main levels of the house, the basement was light by candles mounted along the wall. He left the small entry area to enter the larger basement lit by two mounted candles. They barely cast enough light to see the barren room, but the hole in the brick was very visible. As he approached the hole in the wall, he noticed a dim red glow around the corner of the tunnel beyond the brick. As he turned the corner, the red glow became brighter as he moved further in until he came to a door.

He moved around the debris in front of the door and up the broken steps. The dark stain of the top step didn’t stop him, but sounds did. The door pulsed like a dulled heartbeat in his ear while a strange sound faded in and out, one that he couldn’t explain. It sent a shiver down his spine as he looked over the door. It looked heavy and old, made out of metal with two depictions on it. The first was at the bottom of the door. A woman stood tall over four smaller figured that looked naked, with their arms raised in fear. The woman was clothed in a dark garment and her hair was black. He held something in each hand that Azarien wouldn’t quite make out before he looked to the skull at the top of the door. It had defined teeth, nose, and eye sockets. Above the eyes, on the smooth part of the skill was an impressed circle that seemed to be where the right glow originated from. Inside the red circle was a white, slanted handprint.

Azarien reached out of for the door handle and tried to pull it open, but the door would not budge. He looked towards the handle and found no lock to be picked. When he was about to try to pull the door open again, a voice came from it that shook him to his very core and made him freeze.

“What is the color of night?” The door asked in a raspy whisper.

“Sanguine, my Brother.” He answered without realizing it. It was as if his body took over and his mind took a backseat, or maybe a part of his mind was awoken by the voice. There was no response as the door moved to open itself a crack. Azarian moved forward and pushed the door that hadn’t even made a sound to unlock itself. When he looked at the now open door, there was no locking mechanizing to be found. He stepped into the small tunnel after the door, which slowly closed itself behind him.

“Welcome home.” The words filled him with a warmth he didn’t yet understand.


	2. One to Call Your Own

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When we last left Azarien, he had just arrived at the Chendynhal Dark Brotherhood Sanctuary. Now he is a full member of this family and has found a place for himself that he is happy to stay in for the rest of his life. He has gotten to know his fellow Brothers and Sisters while completing his contracts. Now, an errant letter from Lucien Lachance addressed to him has been delivered with the potential of a bigger contract, or so he thinks

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally got to finishing chapter two! I'm surprised there were people that actually enjoyed the first chapter, so I thank all of you for reading and leaving kudos! I hope this chapter is just as good. I'll start to move more into Azarien's character in terms of more dialogue from him in the next chapter.

The Sanctuary was dark but became lighter as he moved further into the large room lit by flames hung from the ceiling. The Sanctuary was made of stone bricks that kept the underground hideout cool. On the floor of the large main chamber were two red, circular rugs. Hung from the walls on either side of the first rug were intricate banners bearing the same handprint as the door.

“Greetings, brother! Greetings!” An Argonian woman rounded the corner and spoke with excitement when she saw Azarian. “I am Ocheeva, mistress of this Sanctuary. Lucien has told me all about you. I welcome you to the Dark Brotherhood! You stand now in our Sanctuary. May it serve as your new home, a place of comfort and security whenever the need arises. When you’re ready for work, go and speak with Vicente Valtieri. He handles all assignments for new family members. But before you go, please accept this gift from your new family. A unique set of armor, lighter than normal leather and black as the Void. Now, I’ve kept you long enough. Vincente is waiting. You’ll find him in his quarters. Go now, my child, and may Sithis go with you.”

Azarien accepted the armor given to him as Ocheeva spoke. He wasn’t able to even greet her with how smoothly and quickly she moved the one-sided conversation along. He felt a little light-headed with how fast things had been happening. 

“Thank you.” Azarien almost stumbled over the words, but they brought a smile to Ocheeva’s face. “May I ask you some questions?” The woman nodded. Ever curious, he asked about the same things he had asked Lucien: the Night Mother and Sithis. It seemed there was ever more to learn about the two entities that he knew little of. His last questions regarded the Sanctuary and Lucien Lachance. He wondered just where these other Sanctuaries were and if he could find them, though he had his doubts that it would be easy. He thanked Ocheeva once again before he moved through the large main chamber.

As he moved through the chamber, he met all of his new family members. They all greeted him warmly, except for the Khajiit called M’raaj-Dar. M’raaj-Dar seemed far from pleased to have a new face in his family that didn’t seem to have earned their place. Azarien was thankful the Khajiit was willing to teach him spells and trade goods with him despite M’raaj-Dar’s attitude towards him. The Khajiit couldn’t seem to be rid of Azarien sooner, as he almost ushered the Dunmer away.

Azarien took some time to explore the Sanctuary. There were two rooms connected to the main chamber. One was a training room fully stocked with targets, dummies, and weapons. The other was the living quarters with plenty of beds and tables to sit at. The main chamber had a few different sitting areas and several bookcases. The most unique part of the Sanctuary had to be the skeleton that patrolled around the main chamber. He worked his way to the back of the chamber and moved down a corridor where he met Telaendril and Gogron gro-Bolmog in front of Ocheeva’s quarters then M’raaj-Dar further down the corridor just passed the curve that led to Vincente’s quarters. He knocked on one of the doors and pushed them opened when told to enter. He stepped into the room and looked around before he spotted a man stood near the table.

“Ah, here you are. So good to finally meet you.” The man spoke with a smile that showed his sharpened canines as he moved around the table toward Azarien. “Warmest greetings to you. I trust you’ve already spoken with Ocheeva? I am Vicente Valtieri. I provide assignments for all new family members.” There was a brief pause before the man softly chuckled at how Azarien looked him over with suspicion. Pale, purple eyes were not a common trait among humans, nor were such sunken in features and sharp teeth.

“Please, do not let my appearance… unnerve you. The needs and Tenets of the Dark Brotherhood come before my own needs as a vampire.” Azarien didn’t relax at the words. Knowing that five rules were only what kept the man from drinking his blood wasn’t comforting. “Now, if you’re ready to get to work, I can provide you with your first contract.”

“Contract?” Azarien pulled his mind away from the idea of being killed by a vampire as he spoke. Vincente couldn’t harm him and for now, the Tenets would have to make him feel more at ease. “There are contracts?”

“A contract is a secret pact one enters into with the Dark Brotherhood. They provide us with gold and we remove someone from existence. A contract is fulfilled by a skilled assassin, such as yourself, who keeps the Dark Brotherhood’s end of the bargain. So it has always been. While carrying out a contract, you may have the opportunity to earn a bonus if certain parameters are met. Now, let’s begin, shall we?” Azarien perked up at the mention of a bonus being offered on certain contracts, and Vincente took notice. The man moved back towards the table to look over a few papers he had laid out.

“I’m not sure how you feel about pirates, but you’ve got to kill one. A captain, in fact. On his ship. Surrounded by his crew. Interested?” He grinned at the newest member of the group. Azarien wasn’t sure how long it would take to get used to such a menacing smile that sent a cold shiver down his spine.

“It sounds like fun.” He had nothing against pirates, but that had no impact on the assignment.

“Excellent. Here is what you must do. Go to the Waterfront District of the Imperial City. There you will find a ship named the Marie Elena. Board the ship and find its captain, Gaston Tussaud. He’ll be in his cabin. Eliminate Tussaud in any manner you see fit.” Vicente gave a shrug as he moved away from the table and took a few steps towards Azarien, who forced himself to not back away despite the large part of him that wanted to. “The pirates have been moving a lot of cargo onboard lately. You may be able to smuggle yourself onboard in one of the packing crates.” Vicente explained as he went to turn away again only to stop and look back at the newest member.

“Oh, and one more thing. Get into the habit of asking your fellow family members about any current contracts. Their insight may prove invaluable.” Another grin was given by the vampire before Azarien left the room. He did as Vicente suggested and asked the others about his contract. For the most part, the information they provided was useful. They were all more experienced than he was and he would need to keep that in mind because they would likely have some knowledge they could impact on him from past experiences.

After his first contract, things started to come to him easily. He began to fall into a rhythm as the months passed. His sleep schedule didn’t match that of most people. He would sleep three times a day. The sleeping quarters were often dark or very dimly lit by one or two candles kept on the far side of the room away from anyone sleeping. The contracts he received became fun to fulfill. Some contracts came with a bonus, but he was usually allowed to do as he pleased in terms of killing his target. He liked to have fun with it. He would scare or intimidate the mark, see if he could get them to beg for their lives in their final moments. Other times he would take a day or two to mess with them by moving things around. He would make them paranoid before he finally ended the fun. He would experiment with different ways to approach his marks and would relay the results to his family, all of whom were happy to talk about their kills and listen to each other’s stories. Perhaps their favorite tale was of the man he killed after he sang him a song that started out sweet but ended with Azarien expressing all the gory ways he could kill the man before he did so.

In the months he spent with the group, he really did start to see them has a family. It gave him plenty of time to get to know his fellow brothers and sisters. He trained with them, told stories and recounted tales with them, ate and drank with them, and enjoyed a comfortable silence with them. In the time he had been with the Brotherhood, he learned new things about those around him and developed friendships he thought would last a lifetime.

Gogron had perhaps the most interesting stories to tell about his kills. The Orc clearly didn’t favor the stealthy, silent approach to his kills the rest did. He had been the one to tell Azarien to say something to his targets before he killed them and it truly did make the kill more fun. Gogron could explain in excruciating, but fascinating detail how an axe could split apart a body and the sounds a person made on impact. Aside from painting gorgeous verbal pictures, he also had the best stories because of how he messed with his contracts. An Orc clad in heavy armor with a large weapon had to be intimidating enough, but the lines the man came were always the cherry on top of the cake. To Azarien’s surprise, he learned that Gogron had a softer side. Telaendril’s comment on the Orc petting a bunny to death as a child had been true, but it seemed he had a soft spot for animals despite the early introduction to death. Azarien had caught his friend once before playing with a kitten in an alley. Gogron was surprisingly gentle with the kitten especially with petting it, careful to use the tips of his fingers instead of the palm of his hand.

Telaendril was a fun sort. Aside from her brief intimate relationship of Gogron and the story of what lead her to the Brotherhood, Azarien didn’t learn much about her for a few months. Much of their conversation took place while she helped him sharpen his marksmanship. She had learned to become proficient with a bow from her mother, once a wealthy woman in Valenwood. Her father married into the family very obviously for the wealth and he made no effort to hide it after the vows had been said. Telaendril had been the light of her mother’s life and the object of affection for her grandparents doting. Although not spoiled, she stood to gain all the wealth of her family in their absence and her father was envious of it. It took a while for things to fall into place and for people around her to slowly drop dead, but she soon knew why and ended the person that had caused it.

“Not that it didn’t come with its benefits. After all, I’m here and I love what I do.” She had said those words with a smile on her face and an airy tone of happiness. Instead of resenting her father and allowing that hate to fester, she moved past it. In the end, she believed it all worked out for the better and landed her right where she should be. 

Antoinetta was perhaps the sweetest person within the Sanctuary. She greeted everyone with a cheerful smile even when that person was drained from a long day or a contract gone bad. Much like Telaendril, her backstory wasn’t a happy one. She didn’t speak much of her family. Azarien could only assume they had died and her aunt had taken her in, but the woman had been abusive. Poison killed her aunt and Antoinetta recounted how it affected the woman’s body. Azarien also learned through fewer words that while on the streets, his Sister was abused by cruel guards in a way that stilled seemed to scar her. But she used that pain and applied it elsewhere, either to her contracts or to the food she graciously shared with everyone in the Sanctuary. 

Ocheeva and Teinaava had an interesting history, one Teinaava eventually shared with him once they developed a close friendship. They talked about books and kills, but also of their adventures. Their conversations spanned several hours and usually resulted in M’raaj-Dar yelling at them to quiet down their laughter because he wanted to sleep. Eventually, Teinaava explained that he and his sister were originally Shadowscales, trained almost since birth to be assassins. The name that came up in one story was Scar-Tale, said it a way that made the bitter taste it left in Teinaava’s mouth apparent. It wasn’t long after that he asked Azarien to kill his former friend, but he understood if the task was too much to ask. After assurance that it wasn’t, he went to Ocheeva to learn more before he departed. He returned a few days later and handed over the heart of Scar-Tale much to Teinaava’s satisfaction. 

M’raaj-Dar had been the only person to not get along with Azarien because, in the Khajiit’s eyes, the Mer had yet to prove himself. To his credit, Azarien tried and had always been friendly no matter how futile it seemed. Vincente shared stories of his past, recounting his many adventures to Azarien who always listened adamantly like a child being told a fairy tale. Ocheeva was always willing to lend an ear to any concerns and truly did operate like the mother to the little family, every now and then voicing her concerns to those she had them about while also maintaining a strict set of rules to keep the Sanctuary functioning. 

Vincente perhaps saw the most of Azarien, in large part equal combinations of storytelling and giving out contracts. Azarien had many questions about vampirism, much of which Vincente could answer. There seemed to be something else behind that curiosity, something which Azarien couldn’t quite place himself but which Vincente had a guess that he postured after the Dunmer’s final contract.

“Hello, Vincente! I’m ready for my next contract.” Azarien walked into the room that had its doors wide open. The vampire sat at the table in his quarters and looked up from his book with a chuckle.

“Ambitious, aren’t we?” He set the book on the table and leaned back in his chair. “I’m afraid I have no more contracts for you. Our time working together has come to an end. Instead, you must report to Ocheeva. She will be providing you will all your contracts from now on.”

“Oh, well then…” Azarien was surprised and perhaps more disappointed than he thought he’d be. In the months that had passed, he had gotten quite used to seeing Vincente on an almost daily basis and had no more fears that the man would try to devour him.

“Don’t look so sad. I’ll still be here! But before you go off for your next contract, I’d like to make good on an offer I made some time ago. As a vampire, I may pass my gift on to others as I see fit. You have served me well, and I choose now to extend that gift to you. Shall I use my dark powers and turn you into a vampire?” The only response Vincente got at first was stunned silence. Azarien had completely forgotten about the offer Vincente made so many months ago. He had thought little of it at the time, assuming it was a tease as the Dunmer’s obvious discomfort around the vampire. 

“I… I’m not…” The words were lost, but hesitant in their attempt not to offend. Vincente nodded as though he knew exactly what his friend was trying to say.

“It’s alright; I understand your trepidation. For it is not every day one is invited to join the ranks of the undead, eh?” The man’s smile gleamed in the candlelight as he laughed. “If you ever change your mind you know where I am. My offer will always remain open - all you have to do is ask.” Azarien nodded, a breath leaving his lung that he hadn’t realized had been held in.

“Thank you.” He smiled then said goodbye to Vincente as he left the room and headed down the hall to Ocheeva’s quarters.

Perhaps Azarien’s favorite contract came from Ocheeva. Multiple targets in one location under the guise of a treasure hunt? Brilliant and extraordinary entertaining. Like he had with Vincente, Azarien moved through the contracts quickly and within a manner of months, Ocheeva told him to take a break since the group had completed all the currently available contracts. He spent his time either training, reading, chatting, or in Cheydinhal strolling the streets. The days went by rather slowly, but that only made it even more of a surprise when Ocheeva called him into her quarters as he passed by the door.

“Azarien, I must speak to you. It’s quite urgent.” She spoke quickly as she moved from her seat at the table and to the door to make sure she had gotten the Dunmer’s attention.

“What is it? Is something wrong?” He stopped and turned towards the room only to be gestured to follow her to the table as he moved away from the door.

“I’m unsure. A sealed letter arrived not an hour ago from a Dark Brotherhood courier. I recognize this type of parcel. It contains sealed orders.” Ocheeva stopped in front of the table and picked up the letter in question, her voice filled with uncertainty as she looked the envelope over like she had done so a hundred times before. Then she paused and looked at Azarien. “It’s addressed to you… from Lucien Lachance.”

“What?” He was confused. From how Ocheeva talked, the letter seemed important and he hardly felt like he had done anything to merit such a letter. She handed the letter to him.

“You must open these sealed orders immediately and follow their instructions to the letter. It would seem the Black Hand itself has a task for you.” Her works were firm as if they were an order. Azarien looked up at her. “You do not need to open them in front of me, but you must do so now. Whatever orders you have could be attached to a schedule. There is no time to waste.”

“Right.” He nodded. He pushed aside any doubts he had and left the room. He headed down the hall to the corner where the hall to the left turn. 

With his back leaned against the wall, he opened the letter. Addressed to him, the letter expressed the Black Hand needed his help. He needed to go to Lucien’s private refuge, Fort Farragut, post haste. There were no details about the task he would be given once he arrived. He closed the letter and tucked it into his armor before he headed for the ladder. Once outside, he stayed within the shadows cast by the moonlight until he reached the gate that would allow him to leave Cheydinhal before he headed towards the fort.


	3. Send Your Child Unto Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rumors have been whispered around the various Dark Brotherhood sanctuaries, but in Cheydinhal one rumor stands out: a traitor is among them. Not said in quite so many words, but one that holds a nugget of truth nonetheless. Azarien has arrived at Fort Farragut to learn what his next contract from Lucien Lachance will be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One eon latter and I've finally managed to get this chapter out. To anyone that (magically) has been waiting for this series to continue, I apologize for the tardiness. This chapter might be a little rough or it might just be me. But a fun update is that I now have a tumblr for anyone that might care. Is tumblr a useful thing for this stuff? It's linked in my profile if anyone wants to check that out. I'll try to post updates and such about anything I write on there. Anyway, enough of my rambling and onto the story!

The fort has been close by to Cheydinhal, something that he thought strange until he remembered that Lucien did keep watch over the Cheydinhal chapter and that vantage point would have given the man a good understanding of the ongoings of the city. 

The fort did not have a simple layout. His first attempt to find his way through lead him in a circle and the second attempt took him to a dead end. He managed to avoid any the traps he came across until he finally found the entrance into a large room with some furnishings. On the opposite side of a table stood Lucien with a notebook in hand that he studied with a firm stare. The man’s concentration was broken when he noticed Azarien enter the room.

“I have been waiting for you, assassin.” The hooded man snapped the book shut and set it aside as he turned to face towards the Dunmer that stopped just in front of the table across from him. “We have not spoken for some time, but I am well aware of your accomplishments within the Dark Brotherhood. That is why I have sent for you.”

His tone had started out proud. Proud that he had been pointed to a worthy member of the Brotherhood by the Night Mother. Proud that this killer was dedicated not only to him but also his new family and organization. But pride gave way to a sullen tone, one that he only let slip for a few words before he composed himself.

“I’m afraid there is a… situation. The Brotherhood has been infiltrated. By whom, and for what purpose, we do not yet know. What we do know is that there is some link between the traitor and the Cheydinhal Sanctuary. The traitor has tainted the place beyond repair. It was learned that the traitor has been active for quite some time, since before you joined the Brotherhood. That absolves you of any suspicion.”

Lucien allowed the quiet between them to hang in the air as what his words implied sunk into Azarien’s mind. At first, it was a restrained surprise then it was disbelief.

“You can’t possibly mean…” His words had trailed off, hardly able to fathom what he knew his orders would be.

“Oh, but I do. You have been selected by the Black Hand to perform the ancient rite known as Purification. Everyone inside the Sanctuary must die! You must break one of the Tenets you have sworn to uphold. I know this is an unexpected turn of events, but drastic measures must be taken. Ocheeva, Vicente Valtieri, Antoinetta Marie, Gogron gro-Bolmog, Telaendril, M’raaj-Dar, and Teinaava. All of these family members must die! From this point forward, you are no longer bound by the Five Tenets! Sithis will forgive any murder, any theft, so long as you serve the Black Hand!”

Lucien’s postured changed. He leaned over the table, his hands placed flat on its surface. It was as though he tried to crowd the space of the elf opposite him. His breathing had become shallow and his brow furrowed as he maintained eye contact with Azarien, who had started to become uneasy. All his assassins, all those he had watched grow into powerful and skilled killers, were now to be taken from him. Why? Because they were corrupted. Because one of them had betrayed the Dark Brotherhood and worked against them. There was no way to tell who had been tainted and turned against them. It took a moment for the Speaker to realize how he had started to act. He pushed himself from the table and cleared his throat as he turned. He walked to a side table with a sack and started to rummage through it in search of something.

“When the rite of Purification has been completed, return to me here, and we will discuss your future. Now, take these gifts. They will help you greatly.” He turned with the items in hand and gestured for Azarien to get them. “One is a poisoned apple. The other, a unique scroll of summoning.”

The Dunmer took the apple and scroll then stored them on his person. Normally the mer would ask a question or two, but it didn’t appear to be a good time to do so and he wasn’t in the mood. He was directed to the ladder to use the hatch that would lead directly outside.

“Good luck…Silencer.” He paused his ascent up the ladder at the new title. It was the first time he found it hard to take pride in a new ranking. He pushed open the door and climbed outside.

The walk back to the sanctuary was used for contemplation. He was unsure how to kill them all. He doubted any of them would fall for eating the apple and it would likely come off as a joke. He would need to kill them all individually and quietly.

As he walked back into the sanctuary, the first person to greet him was Teinaava. The Argonian had been happy to see him, but he became concerned the closer Azarien got to him.

“You look solemn, Brother. Is something the matter?”

“Yes, but it’s nothing for you to worry about. Just my new contract, but it will soon be handled.” He forced a smile and Teirnaava’s mood improved.

“Ah, a difficult one then. I’m sure you will do fine.”

 

The first to die was Vincente. Ocheeva hadn’t noticed Azarien sneak into her room and go through the hatch that led into the room below. The vampire had been sat at the table with his back to the hatch. A dagger to the neck did the job. He pulled the doors closed before he went back through the hatch. Ocheeva followed, quiet as ever. He wiped the blade and seethed it. He couldn’t bring himself to look at either of the bodies. He closed the door to the room behind him and headed for the training room. Antoinetta and Telaendril were on opposite sides of the room and out of view from each other. Both of their throats were slit from behind. When he went to leave the room, Gogron entered and tried to strike up a conversation. He noticed the body of Telaendril only a few feet from them, but the dagger plunged into his neck by the time he turned to look at Azarien. M’raaj-Dar hadn’t noticed the mer come up behind him, but he died with a dagger in his back. Azarien didn’t have time to recover the dagger before Teirnaava entered the main hall from the sleeping chamber. The Argonian looked on in surprise but sprung into action. The fight that followed had been short, but Azarien didn’t walk away without blood drawn. In his last moments, Teirnaava seemed to realize that this was all part of the contract and, instead of questioning it, it appeared he forgave his own killer before his eyes glazed over.

 

He did nothing with the bodies. He gathered his things and promised himself that he wouldn’t set foot back into the sanctuary. He locked the secret entrance and the doors of the abandoned house before he left Cheydinhal. He returned to the Fort and entered through the hatch in the dead tree. As he descended, Lucien took notice of his guest and turned to look at him.

“The ritual of Purification is complete. Well done. Sithis is appeased, and the time has come to acknowledge and reward your unwavering loyalty.” Azarien turned from the ladder and took only a few steps forward before he stopped. “The Black Hand is most pleased with your progress. You have been invited to share in secrets that few within the Dark Brotherhood even know exist. Your life in the Sanctuary is over. THose contracts are behind you. Now, you will serve the Black Hand. You will serve me. From this moment forward, you will walk the shadows as my Silencer. You will receive contracts only from me. Your new life has begun.”

Though Lucien made the new position sound like a just and happy one, Azarien’s face remained neutral. He wasn’t sure how he should feel. He had just slaughtered those who had trusted him and earned a new rank from it.

“And what am I to do now?” The words were cold, but Lucien paid it no mind.

“Now you embrace your fate.” The man chuckled. “No longer will you receive orders directly. Instead, you will visit dead drop locations scattered throughout Cyrodiil. Your next contract can be found at the dead drop on Hero Hill, southeast of here. A hollow in the moss-covered rock contains all you need to know. When you leave here, we will not speak again, unless I deem it necessary. Ah yes, there is one last thing.”

Azarien had turned to head for the ladder but stopped as Lucien held up his hand with a grin on his face.

“I have for you a very special gift. Waiting just outside is a magnificent steed named Shadowmere. She has served me well. I present her now to you, as a token of my trust and love. Now go. And may Sithis guide you in this new stage of your life’s dark journey.”

Outside the Fort stood the jet black steed Lucien had referred to. She stared at Azarien with blood red eyes as though to evaluate his worth. When he approached, the horse didn’t move. He held how his hand as he would for any new animal to smell him, but she didn’t take an interest. She didn't flinch when his head made contact with her head; she let out a sigh and gave a gentle shake of her head. It was enough for Azarien to understand that she knew him and trusted him enough. He climbed onto her back and settled into the saddle before he flicked the reins.

Hero’s Hill was a distance from the Fort. It took a few hours to navigate to the remote location from the main road and trails into the wilderness. He hopped off Shadowmere and walked to the rocks once they got to the top of the hill. He knelt down at the moss-covered rock and picked it up. He easily found the letter hidden within the hollow of the rock. The letter detailed the location of a necromancer named Celedaen. Hidden away in his cave, the necromancer planned to turn himself into a lich. Azarien found Leafrot Cave on his map, mounted his horse, and rode off in the appropriate direction. He could only hope that a string of assassinations would take his mind off his most recent dealings.


End file.
